


Embossed

by mortenavida



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco is a furniture maker, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Single Parent Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortenavida/pseuds/mortenavida
Summary: After the war, Draco escaped to America to get away from the stares and accusations from the rest of the Wizarding community. When his best friend wants her apartment done up in his now-famous personalized wooden furniture, he decides to return despite old ghosts that he’s sure are hanging around. He intended to stick to Pansy’s place, but plans never seem to go his way and he soon runs into Harry Potter toting around a young child by himself.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 377
Collections: Draco tops Harry 2020, Jay's Big Bang Fics





	Embossed

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved the idea of this prompt! I tried to have Harry be as unsure as possible, but these boys never behave as they should. I’m so glad to get back into HP fic -- this is my first one in years. Thank you to my amazing betas Dig and Pineau_Noir! Without them, this wouldn’t have been finished honestly.
> 
> _Embossing — Creating a 3-dimensional design or pattern on paper or on a surface of wood._

Returning to England hadn’t been Draco’s idea and, if he had his way, he would have never come back. However, when Pansy sent a letter splotched with tear stains about her dick of a husband getting almost everything in their divorce, he felt he had to. As her best friend, he owed it to her to do something since he all but ran away eight years ago. With a letter covered in pleas and requests for help in setting the new tone of her life, Draco found himself finishing up his current workload and returning to his erstwhile home.

The war and its aftermath hadn’t been kind to Draco’s family. After a year of constant rejection, Draco packed his things and took the first opportunity he found to escape. Most of Europe was out of the question, so he took a chance on America -- Boston, to be exact. While the wizards in New England had known of the war, the old man he found a position with simply shrugged and made a comment about children and dumb choices. Not another word had been spoken about it since; Draco appreciated it more than anything else.

His father’s false excitement over Draco’s new choice in career made him all that more determined to do well. Manual labor was for those of lesser status -- according to the Malfoy patriarch -- but to Draco, it became a freedom. Under the tutelage of Richard Torres, the old man that'd given him a chance, Draco became renowned in the States for his unique and handmade furniture. He felt proud of what he'd accomplished and loved going to someone’s home only to find one of his pieces at the center of attention.

Having a home with nothing _but_ his work proudly displayed? A fleeting dream and Pansy was making it come true. Coming to England and designing her furniture would be worth whatever issues that cropped up while there.

Upon arrival, Draco accepted the offer to stay with her while he made the furniture pieces as it would save him from having to rent a room somewhere. Thrilled, she used the opportunity outside of design planning to catch him up in what was happening within the wizarding world - things unsaid in their usual letters. Their world seemed to be changing for the better and while it almost hurt to think about it, Draco had to admit the Golden Trio were doing a great job.

A fact he would never admit to their faces.

After a long day of hashing out design details and ridiculous amounts of gossip, Draco decided to take the next day for himself and roam around the area near the apartment. Most of it was surprisingly Muggle, but it just gave him an opportunity to see parts of London he hadn’t before. Boston had a good mix of both worlds so he was used to it there; it was time he got to see London’s Muggle side as he never had the opportunity as a child.

If living in Boston had taught him one thing, it was the fact that Muggles knew how to make their food. After growing up on house-elf made dishes, the variety offered on the brick streets made him almost want to become a chef. Almost.

He spotted a few cafes along his walk that looked excellent. Though there was one small cart on the street that smelled too good to pass up; Draco decided to give it a chance. The menu boasted simple sandwiches, but it still took a while for Draco to decide which one -- they all sounded fantastic.

He thanked the vendor as he paid for the food and went on his way, strolling along the road. At the heart of it, London wasn’t all that different from Boston. People still lived their lives, still argued in traffic, and sometimes even still slept on the streets. Draco used to give money to those he saw, but it never seemed to do anything. Begrudgingly ignoring the bum he passed, he turned to cross the street to see what the local park had to offer.

Startled, Draco paused upon arriving, sandwich halfway to his mouth, as he spotted a familiar figure in the park across the street. It took him a moment longer to realize he wasn’t seeing ghosts and the man sitting relaxed on the bench was, in fact, Harry Potter. Eight years had done him well and Draco felt his old school crush come back full force. Any classmate of theirs would say their rivalry was legendary, but Draco always found antagonizing Potter preferable over facing his true feelings.

The war hadn’t helped matters, of course, but there wasn’t anything stopping him now. Right? He'd turned his life around while in America, working hard to get to where he was now. Nothing influenced the circumstances -- not his last name or the bullying around he did in school. His skill and patience with the wood he worked with elevated him to the position he now held. Surely Potter would see it that way.

Decision made, Draco finished the last bit of his sandwich before tossing the paper in a nearby bin. Brushing any wayward crumbs off his vest, he slowly approached the bench, more sure of who the man was with each step.

A thousand greetings ran through Draco’s mind and while he wanted to settle on something nice or sweet, what came out of his mouth instead was, “Hey, Scarhead.”

Potter’s head whipped around, his green eyes wide as he took in Draco. For his part, Draco stood as casually as he could muster, one hand in the pocket of his crisp trousers and the other still holding onto his half-full tea. When Potter didn’t say anything immediately, Draco raised the paper cup and took a sip, trying to hide just how nervous he was.

“Malfoy?” he finally asked, seeming to come to his senses. “Merlin, is it really you?”

“The one and only. May I sit or is your ego still big enough to take up all the space around you?” Stupid, why did he have to be so _stupid_? There was no way Potter was going to invite him to sit now, not with the crass way he was acting.

Before Draco could let his mind berate him too much, Potter let out a laugh and shifted over on the bench. “Yes, I suppose it’s really you. Might as well take a seat or you’ll worry the other mums.”

“The other mums?”

Potter arched an eyebrow, a smirk just barely visible on his face. “This is a kids' park, Draco.”

Draco looked up and wanted to curse himself. He was so busy looking at Potter he hadn’t even noticed where they were. Still, he didn’t want to admit to the faux pas, so he shrugged and settled on the bench. “If they’re looking, it’s obviously because I’m attractive and they’re regretting their choice of father material.”

“Of course they are,” Potter turned back to where the children were running around. “So... Rumors are you died, actually.”

“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Draco quoted, remembering the line from some Muggle sci-fi film he managed to watch. He grinned at Potter’s shocked face. “Surprised?”

“More that you know that phrase than you aren’t dead. I always figured you weren’t. When did you get into Muggle things?”

“Some time after I moved to the States. I don’t much remember when, but the community I moved to blurred the lines more than we do here.” Draco eased forward to put his cup by the bench leg. “You learn quite a bit living next to them.”

“I don’t think anyone ever expected you to greet one properly, let alone live near them.”

Draco shrugged. “I do like to surprise. Which one is yours?”

“The kids?” Potter flashed Draco a sly grin. “Oh, I’m just here deciding which one to kidnap and sacrifice to my Lord and Savior.”

For a second, an embarrassing second, Draco actually believed him. But the twitch of mischief in Potter’s eye had him snorting and looking out over the playground. “Nice, Potter. I suggest that girl in the sand, then. She hasn’t moved since I walked up. Easier to handle if she’s that easy to entertain.”

“Jasmine? No, she’s a runner that one. Besides, her mum is some hot-shot in the city and I wouldn’t want to get that much attention. If I get arrested and accidentally do wandless spells, we might have the second witch hunt start. I didn’t save the wizarding world to destroy it not a decade later.”

Joking around like this was something Draco used to do with Blaise, yet here he sat, on a warm Tuesday, having the conversation with Harry Potter. He couldn’t help the laugh which escaped him, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth in a bad attempt to hold it in. Of all the things he planned to do today, this was nowhere near the top of his list.

“I’m here with my godson,” Potter said as soon as Draco had himself under control. “He was being raised by his grandmother, but she passed a few years ago, so he came to me.”

Draco recalled hearing about Potter’s godson through his mother. Though the name of the boy escaped him, he did know they were related -- his grandmother was Draco’s aunt. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t know her as well as you did, though she was family. Mum took it hard.”

“Sometimes I forget she was a Black. No offense, but your family tree confuses me.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Draco leaned closer. “They confuse the utter piss out of me, too. If mum didn’t make me memorize them, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Good to know.” Potter checked his watch and frowned. “Look, I’m not making an excuse to leave to get away from you, but Teddy and I have to go. I promised Ron I’d babysit for their anniversary and...”

“I understand.” Draco waved him off. “Go on, I should get back as well. It was nice to see you again, Potter.”

Potter hesitated before holding out his hand toward Draco. “Likewise, Malfoy.”

The handshake was all that Draco wanted it to be nearly two decades before: firm and full of promise. He let go reluctantly, watching as Potter gathered a boy with the same inky black hair before walking off in the opposite direction. Perhaps, he thought, he could make a stop by the park whenever he needed a break from work. It wasn’t far, after all.

\-----

It was another week before Draco saw him again. Despite his better judgement, he went past the park nearly every day since, yet Potter hadn’t returned until the same day the following week. Holding back the giddy feeling in his chest, Draco doubled back to get a second tea before all but jogging to the park. Potter sat on the same bench, relaxed back with a smile as he watched the children play around. Draco felt his heart jump in his throat at the sight.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to sit?” Potter asked, tilting his head back to give Draco an amused look. “Is one of those for me?”

Draco quickly handed the cup over to Potter before taking a seat next to him. “Sorry, I saw you on my way and--”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter interrupted, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent. “Honeysuckle?”

“A favorite of mine,” Draco admitted.

“Are you stalking me?”

“What?” Yes, a little. “No, of course not. As I said, I saw you on my way back to Pansy’s apartment. Or I would have if you didn’t interrupt me.”

“I heard she recently split from Nott. So it’s true?”

“Thankfully. While they worked together as friends, they don’t work well as a couple.” Draco wrinkled his nose. “When they married was when I really questioned arranged marriages among Purebloods.”

Potter snorted. “ _That_ was when you questioned it?”

“Oh, sod off it, Potter.”

He laughed before taking a sip of the tea. “How long are you in England?” he asked after finishing.

“A while. Pansy wants her entire apartment done with original furniture and she’s paying me a nice sum to be the one to do it,” Draco said, not caring he may have been bragging just a bit. “I learned from an old man who hired me on and taught me all he knew. Apparently I’m a natural at it.”

“I didn’t realize wizards still made furniture,” Potter said, frowning. “I’ve seen plenty just conjure up whatever they need.”

“Yeah, and it falls apart fast, right?” Draco wished he had some pictures on him to show Potter. Maybe next time? “No, this is made the old-fashion way. Everything is done by hand.”

“No...”

Draco held out his hands, well calloused over from the labor. “Honestly, the absolute look of horror from my father when he learned of my trade made the pain worth it.”

“I can imagine he wouldn’t like his son acting like someone so common,” Potter said, voice teasing as his soft finger slid ever-so-gently against Draco’s palm. “Draco Malfoy, furniture maker. Do you like it?”

“It was difficult at first, but I do enjoy it.” Draco pulled his hands back, a little surprised Potter hadn’t asked if he was actually good at it. “My pieces are all custom order. I like to do carvings catered to the person buying. It’s why Pansy’s letting me stay with her.”

“Teddy’s up for a new bed soon if you have any extra time. I wouldn’t mind seeing some examples.” Potter’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t meant to say that, then his cheeks flushed slightly pink. “If that isn’t too forward of me...”

Draco put a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “ _The_ Harry Potter wants one of my pieces in his home? Merlin, I might _faint_!”

“Ponce,” Potter teased, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be his last bed until Hogwarts, so I just want him to have something he’ll like.”

“Of course. I can make something for him when I’m not making Pansy’s ridiculous requests.”

That gave Potter pause and he shifted on the bench. “Actually, I don’t know...”

“Hm.” Draco leaned back. “Is it because I used to bully you in school or because I used to be a Death Eater that has you pause?”

“What? No, that’s--”

“Potter, please don’t bullshit me,” Draco said, voice quiet. “I’ve spent eight years trying to be better than I was before. I don’t pretend what happened during sixth year never occurred and I am trying my best to prove I am not that scared child anymore.”

“You’re right,” Potter agreed with a sigh. “No, you’re right. And honestly, my hesitation isn’t about who you were at all. I’m just... I’m protective about him is all. And it sounds like you have plenty of other work.”

Protective and still didn’t trust a Slytherin, but Draco could work with Potter’s half-lie. “I don’t bite, I promise. Besides, Pansy changes her mind every other day so I have plenty of free time.”

Potter frowned, rubbing at his forehead where the scar still sat. “I’ll think about it.”

Draco stood and turned to face Potter. “I’ll owl you some examples I have. Even if you don’t end up finding something for your godson, I might be able to point you in the direction you’re looking.”

“I’m sure you’ll have something he likes,” Potter insisted with a tight smile. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

Draco didn’t want to leave with only a _potential_ meeting in the future -- he would rather have something more solid to work with, but he knew when not to push his luck and this was it. So he bid Potter a farewell and forced himself to take the short walk back to the Apparition point.

\-----

Draco stared at the empty parchment, not sure what exactly to say to Potter. Copies of previous designs he typically sent out to inquiring customers sat on the corner of his desk, but that was as far as he had gotten in the hours after he left the park. Simply saying, “Dear Mister Potter, here are some examples. Draco Malfoy” would do nothing more than have him lose a customer.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to get himself to get over whatever was going on in his head. Potter was just a man, just another potential person to put money in his pocket, and that was how he needed to think about this.

_Mr. Potter, included in this letter are images of a few examples from previous clients, though if you would care to see a larger selection, I am more than willing to provide them._

The front door jingled open at that point, announcing Pansy’s arrival home. Bells over her entryway doors were, according to her, a way to ward off unwanted faeries. Draco figured it was her own kind of warning system just in case. 

She called out a hello and Draco tilted back in his chair. “Dining room, Pans!” he stated before returning his attention to the letter. 

“I saw a design while I was out which I just _have_ to have on my dresser,” she said, sweeping into the room. “I made sure to get a memory of it so you can view it later, but I promise this is the last time I change it.”

Draco’s lips quirked. “Only if you promise.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re being nice to me.” She settled down across from him. “What’s this, then?”

“A potential customer.”

“Draco--”

“It’s just a bed, don’t worry about it.” Draco signed his name before bending over to blow gently on the ink. 

She leaned over him and arched an eyebrow. “Potter?”

“His godson, Teddy.” Draco rolled up the parchment with the examples before putting them off to the side to send later. “If I can get Potter as a customer, just imagine what it would do for my reputation.”

“Nobody but you cares about that anymore, trust me. I haven’t been asked to leave a shop in years.”

“No offense, but the Dark Lord was never living in your home.” Draco forced a smile on his face. “Tell me about this design you saw.”

“You’re changing the subject on purpose,” Pansy said, her tone accusatory. 

“Yes, and it’s going to work.” Draco crooked his finger at her. “Come on, give me the memory. I know you’re dying to.”

Pansy huffed and stood. “We’re not done talking about this. Let me go get my Pensieve.”

Whatever his professional relationship with Potter, Pansy didn’t need to know. Or Draco didn’t want her to know because she would be able to see right through him eventually. There was no telling whether or not she’d also stick her nose into his business and tell Potter about his ridiculous crush.

Draco watched Pansy leave the room, keeping the smile on his face as she left. Hopefully, talk of furniture would keep her occupied for some time.

\-----

Potter’s letter came two days later and it took Draco hours before he gained the courage to even open it. In the end, it took Pansy finding it and teasing him before he took the letter to his room and read through it. Not that he should have anything to be worried about -- Potter had been just as professional in his response, requesting for them to meet up the next day at the park to discuss things further.

Draco agreed and now he was on his way to meet with Potter and his godson. He debated doubling back to grab tea again, but decided against it at the last minute. It would just be delaying something he should not have been nervous about in the first place. It was just Potter, just another customer.

He rounded the corner and the park came into view. It didn’t take long to spot them and Draco smiled as he saw Potter holding a small boy, hair just as wild and unkempt as anything. Though he knew the boy wasn’t Potter’s, it was hard to see any differences between them. Same green eyes, same type of hair.

“Good morning,” Draco told them both, sitting next to them. “I’m glad I could help you with the new bed.”

Potter ruffled the boy’s hair. “I told Teddy and he was too excited to wait until our next park outing, I hope it’s okay we asked to meet so soon.”

“More than okay.” Draco pulled out his sketchbook and leaned toward Teddy. “I hear you’re in the market for a new bed.”

“Uncle Harry said I could pick out whatever I wanted.” Teddy flashed a grin, scrambling off Potter’s lap so he could rock a bit on his heels. “He said you could even do dragons and stuff.”

“I said maybe...”

Draco waved Potter off. “Dragons, you said? You really want dragons?”

Teddy hesitated, then shook his head. “No, it was just an example.”

“Sorry,” Potter said, running a hand through Teddy’s hair. “We tried to talk about what he wanted _before_ showing up, but ... well, kids you know.”

Draco didn’t really know, but he wasn’t about to admit that. He just shrugged. “It’s okay, that’s what the design process is for.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I am. Now, all right, Teddy, what were you thinking?” he asked, ignoring Potter for the moment.

For the next half hour, Draco forgot about everything but the little boy in front of him. The kid had a great imagination -- wilder than Draco remembered his own being. He jumped from magical creature to Muggle so fast it almost made his head spin, though eventually they settled on a headboard with Hogwarts in the background and the forest taking up most of the width. Draco would then charm it so the occasional creature would dart through the trees, including the four Marauders “Uncle Harry” told Teddy so much about.

Initially, Draco questioned including all four of them, but Potter just said, “They were friends at one point, and even Peter changed in the end.” Draco just nodded, accepting that.

The footboard of the bed would focus on Teddy’s father, Remus Lupin. Draco had fond memories of his once-professor despite the fear of the man’s beastly side. He noticed Potter’s concerned look when Teddy first brought it up, but he ignored it and focused on creating a werewolf running through a vast forest, tongue hanging out of its mouth.

“It looks perfect,” Teddy declared once Draco finished the last line. “Uncle Harry, look!”

Potter tilted his head a bit so he could see the notepad. “It does -- I like it. Are you positive this is what you want?”

Teddy nodded, grasping Potter’s hand. “Can we get it? Can we?”

“Shouldn’t take longer than two weeks in-between Pansy’s stuff,” Draco said. “If you need it sooner...”

“Two weeks is fine, I’m sure.” Potter smiled at Teddy. “Right?”

Teddy made a face, but he didn’t say no. “I guess... Can I watch?”

“No,” Potter said, almost too quickly. When Draco arched an eyebrow at him, Potter cleared his throat. “Mister Malfoy has enough work to do, I’m sure.”

Draco hardly minded when people watched, but he didn’t want to go against what Potter said. “A lot of the work is dangerous, so your uncle is right. Maybe I can send pictures?”

Teddy brightened at the promise. “Really?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Potter promised. “Go and play while I finish up here, okay?”

Once Teddy ran off to jump on the jungle gym, Draco put the notepad on the bench and tried to give Potter a smile. “Honestly I don’t mind if he watches. People used to in Boston.”

“I just didn’t want him to bother you.”

“I understand. A lot of what I do is rather boring while I form the wood.” He hesitated. “If it’s alright with you and Pansy, he can come to watch me carve it. That way if he has any changes, I can do them quickly.”

Potter glanced back toward Teddy. “I don’t know...”

“Potter.” Draco leaned closer. “I just want to make your godson a bed. That’s all.”

After a long moment, Potter’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Send me an owl when you’ve reached that point?”

“Of course.” Draco eased back again. “Now, I promise not to charge you more just because of our past. Nor am I going to give you a discount because you saved the world.”

That actually got Potter to laugh and Draco counted it as a win. “I wouldn’t have even asked, but I appreciate it.”

“Good, then let’s talk business.”

\-----

Pansy met Draco at the door with a cup of tea and an innocent grin. “How’d it go?” she asked, handing the cup over.

Draco eyed the cup suspiciously before reaching up to take it. “Are you serious right now, Pansy?”

“I can’t offer my best friend some tea?”

“You are far too interested in my love life.” He toed off his shoes before brushing past her. “It was a business deal, nothing else happened.”

“That isn’t any fun.” Pansy followed behind him. “Come on, tell me.”

“His kid is cute.” Draco settled onto the couch, putting his tea on the side table. “Potter obviously dotes on him and he’s going to be a terror at Hogwarts, I’m sure. Curious and imaginative.” He looked to her, eyebrow arched. “Does that answer your question?”

“No,” Pansy said with a pout, settling on the opposite end of the sofa, feet curled up beneath her. “Were you always this dense?”

“Were you always such a meddler?”

“Touché.” Pansy put her tea to the side. “So, you think his kid is cute...”

“Pansy--”

“Draco.” She rested a hand on his arm. “You’ve been going on about Potter for years. Not just through school, but you've mentioned him in your letters over the years, too. When are you going to admit to your feelings?”

Draco scoffed and rubbed at his leg. “We’re Slytherins, Pans. When do we ever admit to our feelings?”

“True.” Pansy shifted so she was pressing against Draco’s side, her head on his shoulder. “But, we’re not really defined by our House anymore. Granger had a run through with the Ministry when we were reforming it and berated a lot of old men into shame.”

“I did hear about that...”

“I know because I sent you the article.” Pansy laced her fingers with his. “Don’t focus on the differences, Draco. That’s what killed my marriage and I’m not going to let it stall your love life before it even starts.”

Draco was quiet for a long time before squeezing Pansy’s hand. “We don’t even know if Potter is gay,” he said, voice almost too quiet in the room.

“Oh, please. From what I hear, he all but stalked you through school and never did anything more than give a girl a _hug_. There’s even a rumor he was seen kissing a bloke at some holiday party.”

“We’ll see,” Draco told her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “For now, let me just focus on doing my job.”

“Spoil-sport.”

Draco just smiled, staring into the fireplace in front of them. Maybe he could feel out Potter over the next few weeks. They would be talking through owls and potential in-person meetings if Draco pretended not to stalk him and Teddy at the park. He couldn’t be _that_ lucky to have Potter actually like him. Could he?

\-----

Draco hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, too caught in his own thoughts about Potter. Not that it helped his sleeplessness, but he put himself to work on Teddy’s bed, figuring he could use the insomnia for something useful. So when Pansy came into the spare bedroom-turned-Draco’s office with a coffee in hand, the hour surprised him. Pansy thankfully hadn’t said anything other than a goodbye before leaving Draco alone in the middle of his woodwork.

His second surprise came from a knock on the front door. Sure, he put in for an order of Pansy’s requested wood, but he wasn’t expecting that for at least another two days. He wiped as much sawdust off his clothes as he could before making his way to the front door.

The last person he expected to see on the other side was Potter. Draco stared at him for a long moment before remembering his manners. “Potter... What are you doing here? How...?”

“Hermione works with Pansy and helped her find the place.” Potter shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. Draco suddenly feared how this conversation was going to go. “May I come in so we can talk?”

“Of course. I think Pansy made some coffee, but we also have tea?” Draco left the door open while he went into the nearby kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“We had breakfast, but tea is fine.” Potter hovered in the doorway of the kitchen. “Malfoy...”

“What is it, Potter?” Draco took two teacups down to prepare the drinks.

“I don’t want Teddy to come and watch you make the bed.”

Draco hesitated before pouring the water. “All right?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Potter said quickly. “I swear, I just... I’m protective of him.”

“I never said you _couldn’t_ be here as well.” Draco took a seat after putting the cups down at the table. “What’s this really about?”

“I just said--”

“Potter.” Draco wrapped his hands around his cup. “I am running on very little sleep, so my patience for bullshit is thin. What’s the real reason?”

“You,” Potter snapped out, though he looked surprised he had done so. At Draco’s raised eyebrow, he seemed to gather his famous Gryffindor courage around him and straighten his back. “I don’t want him around influences like you and Parkinson.”

“Influences like myself and Parkinson,” Draco repeated, leaning back in his chair. “And just what kind of ‘influences’ are those?”

“You know...” Potter waved his hand as if that explained anything. All it did was grate on Draco’s already frayed nerves. “Influences.”

“Slytherin influences?” Draco stood, pushing his chair back slowly to do so. “Why Potter, I didn’t realize being ambitious was such a bad thing in your eyes. Isn’t Granger quite ambitious? I’ve heard plenty of stories.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Potter crossed his arms. “Teddy isn’t going to come here and that’s... that’s final.”

Draco moved around the table, stepping closer to the Boy-Who-Won. “You know, I think it has absolutely nothing to do with myself or Pansy. I think it has to do with you.”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you.” Draco stood in front of him. “Maybe you don’t want him to come around because you don’t want to see me.”

Potter scoffed, though there was a tint of pink to his cheeks. “That’s absurd. I never said--”

“What are you hiding, Potter?”

“I’m not hiding anything, Malfoy,” Potter said, taking a step back. When Draco matched him, he let out a sigh. “Do you mind?”

“Only that you’re lying.” Draco continued his movements until Potter was up against the counter, hands gripping the edge. “If you still hate me that much, why commission me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Potter said, voice barely a breath. “Malfoy, please...”

“Please what, Potter?” Draco pressed closer, sliding a knee between Potter’s legs. The hitch in his breath was enough to make Draco smirk and he pressed further against the growing hardness he found. “Are you begging me?”

The only sound that came from Potter was a slight whimper before Draco surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. When Potter returned it immediately, Draco knew he guessed right. He would owe Pansy another dresser for this as she was also right, but at the moment, Draco didn’t care. He had Potter -- _Harry_ \-- in his arms where he wanted the boy since fifth year.

Perhaps now, he had a reason to stay.

\----- _Epilogue_ \-----

Draco’s hand smoothed across the wood, a smile blooming on his face. In all his years of the craft, he never once made something for himself. The desk in front of him now reminded him of his father’s with its many drawers and hidden caches, but it was much better decorated. Instead of the standard winding designs, Draco tailored it to _himself_. Perhaps it would even be something he could pass down to Teddy some day.

Teddy, his and Harry’s little Hufflepuff, would be graduating Hogwarts next year. Draco hadn’t moved into Harry’s home until after Teddy started Hogwarts, starting the best six years of his life. Waking up next to Harry every morning, kissing him goodnight -- it was as if a missing piece in his heart finally filled in.

The years made him a sap.

“It looks great,” Harry said from the doorway, pulling Draco’s attention away from the dragon carefully carved into a leg. “How much longer until it’s done?”

“We’ll see. I’m still deciding what else to put on it.” Draco pointed to the leg closest to himself. “Dragons for me, of course, but they’re Hungarian Horntails.”

Harry snorted. “The first task? Really?”

Draco blew him a kiss before motioning toward the leg closest to Harry. “I put a deer and a doe on there. For your parents.”

“Draco...” Harry stepped into the room, kneeling so he could look at the work. “Thank you.”

Harry was close enough, so Draco pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Of course. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

“What about the other legs?”

“One is for you and one is for Teddy. Those are what I haven’t decided on yet.” Draco stood, stretching his back. “I might carve some on the top, too, and cover it in glass.” He just couldn’t decide whether to make it Hogwarts or the streets of Boston. Both places had the same feeling of _home_ to him. “Anyway, you’re home early.”

“Gave myself a half day.” Harry stood, hands resting against the edge of the desk. “Wanted some alone time with you.”

“You have alone time with me every night.”

Harry shrugged and reached up to undo his shirt buttons. “I mean, if _you_ don’t want to have alone time with me, I could just... have _alone_ alone time.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, which only made Harry’s grin wider. “Oh, that’s _it_ , Potter.”

Harry took off out of the room, Draco hot on his heels. They both knew the outcome would be Draco pressing Harry against the mattress as they both cried out, but the chase was part of their fun. They had both been seekers, after all. And as Draco followed Harry up the stairs to their bedroom, he knew this was a chase he was glad to have for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> The movie Draco quotes comes from _Star Trek: First Contact_ , though the origin of the quote comes from Mark Twain.


End file.
